Mary Sue with a Twist
by gloryblastit
Summary: I finally thought of a clever spin on the classic Mary Sue. So give it a whirl.
1. Default Chapter

Something wasn't right. I couldn't quite figure it out but something was…off.

"Ann?" I blinked, looked around. Same vacant lot, same blue Oklahoma sky, same friends.

"Yeah?" Johnny had said my name, and he smoked his cigarette and regarded me with his soft gaze.

"Where'd you go?" he said. Johnny had a heavy drawl. His accent was a bit more pronounced than the others. Ponyboy read so much, I think he tried to sound like what he read, not like a hick.

"Huh? Uh, nowhere," I smiled, but still I had this sense of…something. I couldn't seem to describe it, even to myself. So I shook it off, and asked Johnny for a cigarette. He handed me one.

I watched the smoke twirl toward the sky, watched how the sun twinkled off the broken glass, how it made the boys' hair gleam because of the grease.

I pitched the cigarette, walked toward the chain link fence. Johnny, me, and Ponyboy were here hanging out. Just a day like any day, and I watched Ponyboy bum a cigarette from Johnny.

"Shit, man, am I the only one with cigarettes?" Johnny said irritably.

"I ran out. Sorry,"

I'd basically been hanging around with them ever since I could remember. I'd grown up in the same neighborhood and all. So it meant I was poor, and I was poor cause my daddy ran out on us when I was four or five, but I remembered some things. Like how he had seemed so tall and handsome, like John Wayne or Alan Ladd, and how he smelled like the cologne he wore, and how he'd scoop me up when he came home.

But he done run out then my mom had to get about a million jobs and we had to move here, to the north side of Tulsa. Boy, how old was I then? Eight or nine, must have been. And I met Johnny first, he was 10 or 11 or so, and he was mad because his dad beat him up again. That's how he put it. Smoking, squinting at me with that shiner of his.

"Again," he said, like he couldn't believe it.

"And I didn't even do nothing," He laughed, a short, joyless, adult laugh for a 10 or 11 year old kid.

"You smoke?" he had said. And I shook my head no, scared of smoking, scared his dad did that to him, scared of this new neighborhood.

"Well, here, try it. You might like it," and he handed me my first cigarette.

And through Johnny I met all the rest of them, and they became like a family to me.

"You guys want to have supper at my house?" Ponyboy said, and we both nodded. The sun was setting, and I liked how it made the buildings look sort of reddish and gold. And I felt it again, that funny feeling that I was missing something, or I should know something and I didn't know it. It felt like there was a cold line going down my back. Goose walked over my grave. I shivered.

"You cold, Ann?" Johnny said, shrugging out of his jean jacket.

"Yeah, a little," He handed me his jacket and I put it on, smiled at him in the fading light.


	2. Chapter 2

It came to me again, that funny feeling, almost like seeing a photograph and the negative at the same time.

I squinted at Ponyboy and Johnny, trying to figure it out. But whatever it was, it was just out of reach.

So I ignored it best I could, and smiled at Soda and Darry's greetings, took off Johnny's jacket and laid it on the back of a chair.

It was funny how different Soda and Darry were. Ponyboy said Darry looked just exactly like his dad but didn't act like him. I didn't remember his parents at all. It's funny but I don't recall ever seeing his parents. Just the fallout from their deaths. Just the way Darry had to take all the responsibility for Pony and Soda when he was only 20.

I was never that comfortable around Darry because he was so much older but also because he seemed older. He seemed like 30 or even 40, and there wasn't a whole lot to say to him.

But Soda was a whole other story. He was cute, he was beyond cute. Ponyboy and Johnny were cute…Soda was shiningly handsome, with his wide smile, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief and excitement. And Soda always made you feel like it was only you he was interested in, like he thought you were so important. It just felt good to be around Soda.

And then Ponyboy who was usually so quiet, sometimes he'd say something kinda funny or sarcastic and it would crack me up.

Eating supper with them I thought it was lucky I had them, since my mom was never home and the boyfriends she'd bring home sometimes seemed more interested in me than in her. I bit my lip, thinking of that. I glanced at Johnny. He was just picking at his food. It was what I had in common with him. We both had to avoid going home.

Outside, smoking on the back porch, the little nicotine buzz making me smile, I had that thought again. That feeling. It was eerie, really.

"Well, whaddya know?"

"Hey, Two bit," Ponyboy said as Two bit hopped up on the porch.

"Hey, kid," he said to Johnny, trying to mess up his hair. Johnny jerked away.

"C'mon," he said, making Two bit smile. Then he saw me.

"Ann, my darling," he dropped on one knee, took my hand, put a lovesick, pleading expression on his face.

"Be my wife! Please! I'll be a miserable, heartbroken man if you don't!"

I blushed furiously.

"Never, Two bit. Now get up," I yanked him up and he straightened, smiled for a second before resuming the character.

"Why! Tell me why! I demand to know!"

I smiled and leaned my head on Johnny's shoulder.

"Because I'm marrying Johnny, that's why,"

"Fine. I'm getting a beer. Y'all want some?"

Johnny and me nodded but Ponyboy declined, said he had to do homework. Disappeared into the house.

The beer tasted good, and I watched Johnny drink, watched how it loosened him up, made him smile more. Beer had no visible effect on Two bit. Me, it just mellowed me out.

And it was nice, a nice soft night, the air gentle. Nothing pressed on my heart, and again I had the feeling that I was missing something, or should know something, had known something. I shook my head. Maybe I was going crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

I could be going crazy. Growing crazy. Who knows what it's like? Maybe that's why things have been looking funny, not bad, but weird. And why my friends seem different. Everything can't be different. It's gotta be me.

It got pretty late pretty fast, and Two bit took off for greener pastures, some crazy party.

Johnny stuck his head in the house and told Darry and Soda we were taking off, too.

"Tell Pony we said bye," Johnny said, his voice soft like always. He was so sweet. Of all my friends he was far and away my favorite.

We walked toward our houses but slowly, neither of us wanting to get there. Every day Johnny stayed away from his house was a day he avoided a beating.

"Why do you even go there at all?" I'd ask him. He'd shrug, look sad, "I have to sometimes," he'd say.

"Wanna go to the lot instead?" he said, and I nodded.

At the lot, the little fire crackling, I turned to him.

"Something's wrong," I said.

"What?" Soft concern in his voice, in his eyes.

"That's the thing. I don't know. But lately I've been having this weird feeling…it's hard to describe,"

He waited for me to describe it, so patient. Patience was a virtue the others didn't seem to have, no one but him. My mom was in a constant state of frazzle, and if I tried to talk to her about anything she'd want to listen, she'd sort of pretend to listen, but she wasn't. Not really. She'd make listening noises like "oh" and "mmm hmmm," but her tone wouldn't go with what I was saying.

Ponyboy never seemed to focus on what you said to him, he was always thinking of abstract shit, or at least it seemed that way. Two bit tried to cheer me up, which could be good, but it wasn't always good.

So Johnny waited, and I tried to think how to express it to him.

"It's kind of like déjà vu, like I've done all this before, but it's been going on for days…"

I shook my head, that wasn't quite right.

"Um," I started again, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, feeling the course material between my fingers, "it's sort of like that moment you wake up from a dream, but the dream still seems real, and then you start to realize it was a dream, but it still feels like it was real. I feel like that constantly,"

It still wasn't quite accurate but I couldn't describe it. I was off kilter, out of whack, out to lunch. Could cliches help? Probably not.

And Johnny nodded, lit up a cigarette. If I'd told that to Dallas he might say, "Ann, you're fucking crazy," Dallas tends to attack you with your worst fear. But not Johnny. He doesn't judge.

Things were slippery, the world covered in oil, or an oil like substance, and I was just slipping along, unable to grasp anything.

I thought a cigarette might help, clear my head a little or at least calm me down.

I puffed away and turned out it did neither. I was still lost and beginning to get scared.


End file.
